Chapter Four

October 31, 2008

Halloween

"They said it's okay," Ben said as he sat down in History next to Katie. "Seven o'clock, my house. My folks are going to that big party at town hall, so we'll be by ourselves."

Joey nodded and said, "Okay. I'll be there."

Katie looked at Ben with an odd expression on her face. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked. "You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine," Ben lied, not quite meeting her eyes. She still gazed at him, so he added, "Well actually, this whole thing's got me feeling low, to be honest."

Katie nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can see why. But don't worry too much over it. It is just a house, after all."

Ben nodded, trying to smile and not quite managing it. It was Halloween. The day of death itself. Just a house or not, he was scared.

At lunch, he told everyone about the plans. Steve in particular was excited. "We'll so be there," he said. "This is gonna be the best fucking Halloween party ever! Have you all got costumes?"

"I don't," Ben admitted, but everyone else nodded.

"There's a drugstore a few blocks away," Joey suggested. "They might still have something."

So after school Ben found himself browsing the aisles of the drugstore, eyes roving over a rack of costumes. There wasn't much of a selection, but then again, this was Halloween day. That's what he got for waiting till the last minute.

As he examined a cheap-looking ghost costume, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He looked up and glanced around. There was no one in sight. He shrugged and returned his gaze to the costume, frowning. No, this one didn't look good. A sheet over the head would be more convincing. He moved on to the next costume, but then he looked up again. He had sensed rather than heard someone behind him, someone watching him.

But the aisle was empty except for him.

"Hello?" he called tentatively. "Anyone there?"

No one answered.

Feeling not the least bit reassured, he resumed his search, pausing over a vampire cape. It wasn't great, but it would do. He looked at a nearby shelf for some fake fangs…

What was that sound?

He turned around and just barely caught a glimpse of someone stepping past the aisle, someone big and tall and wearing something dark. Then he or she had vanished from view.

Now feeling unnerved and not quite sure why, Ben grabbed a pair of fangs and headed in the opposite direction, toward the front of the store. He glanced back once over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the dark-clad figure watching him from the other end of the aisle. But there was no one there.

"You're losing it, Ben," he muttered to himself. He turned forward again…

…and collided with someone standing in his path.

"Shit!" he cried, jumping back and raising his arm to defend himself.

"Whoa there!" the store clerk yelped. "Easy, man! I'm sorry, I thought you saw me."

Ben let out a sigh and felt himself turn red. "No, I…I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little jumpy."

The clerk nodded, looking slightly concerned. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Ben insisted, trying to smile but not quite succeeding. He ducked past the clerk and headed to the checkout. He refused to look back over his shoulder again until he was safely back outside.

Carrying his backpack on his shoulder and carrying his new costume in a plastic bag on his arm, Ben headed for home. The backpack was light; he'd left most of his books in his locker. It was Friday, and apparently the teachers were feeling rather generous because they'd assigned no homework for the weekend.

He turned the corner and started down a new street. It was deserted except for himself, but the same sense of being watched he'd had in the drugstore returned. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that there was no one in the vicinity. He looked ahead and almost immediately turned around again. He knew, just knew that there was someone else in the area, someone who was determined to not be seen.

He stopped walking and faced the direction he'd come, not moving, his heart doing a fierce drumroll in his chest. "Who's there?" he said in a quavering voice.

No one answered him. He gazed uncertainly around, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anything at all that would explain the sensation he was feeling, the sensation of being watched. There was nothing strange at all here, though, so he turned around again and continued his walk home.

He heard something crunch behind him.

He jumped and whirled around, expecting to come face-to-face with whomever was following him. Instead, he saw a shape down the block. It was a person, no doubt about that. But there was something off about him. He looked a little too pale to be real, as though he hadn't seen the sun for decades. He was dressed in navy blue coveralls that looked old and dirty, as though they hadn't been washed in days. He was just standing there, his arms down by his sides, watching Ben as he gazed uncertainly at the stranger.

"Who…who are you?" Ben called.

The stranger didn't answer.

"What do you want?"

Still nothing.

Unnerved, Ben turned away and started walking toward home, his feet hitting the pavement a little faster than usual. He glanced back and felt his heart miss a beat. The shape was following him, and he was much closer now. Now he could see why the man looked so pale. His face was hidden by a white rubber mask. But Ben had never seen a mask like this before. It was blank, expressionless, and ominous. The eye holes were dark, and looking into them, Ben felt a sense of something powerful and sinister, as if the thing behind the mask was emitting some kind of evil aura.

Ben faced forward again and picked up the pace, listening intently for the sound of the stranger's footfalls. Not hearing any, he glanced back again and nearly screamed. The shape was almost directly behind him. What the hell?!

Ben broke into a run, trying to put distance between himself and the stranger. He didn't dare look back to see if he was pursuing, he just ran like he'd never run before. He turned down another street and kept running, past houses and yards, past people raking up leaves, past flickering jack-o'-lanterns leering at him from front porches.

Ben saw the next corner coming closer and knew that he would soon be safe. His house was on this street. He decided to cut the corner and increase his distance. But as he stepped onto the grass, his left foot landed in a patch of mud, and he went down with a startled cry. He landed in the puddle with a wet splat, and rolled over to see how far behind his pursuer was.

He was gone.

Ben stared at the sidewalk and then whipped his head around from side to side, his eyes scanning the trees lining the path, the shrubbery separating one house from the next. There was absolutely no one there. His breathing slowed, relaxed. He was safe, for now at least.

He stood up and resumed his walk toward home. He shivered as the cool autumn breeze hit him and his wet clothes. He'd have to change and shower when he reached the house.

But when he rounded the corner, all thought of cleanliness vanished. There were police in front of his house. Two squad cars and an ambulance, lights blazing, were parked on the curb. His heart hammering again, Ben approached the yellow police tape, worried about his parents. Had they already left for the party? Were they safe?

But as he got closer, he could see that the tape wasn't around his house at all. It was around the one next door. Mr. Mathis' house.

He reached the caution line and called to a cop by the front door, "What happened?"

The officer looked over at him like he was a pestering little kid. "There's been a murder," he said in a bored, casual voice. "It's pretty nasty."

A murder? Here? Next door to his house? Ben's throat went dry.

"Mr. Mathis?" he said, his voice cracking.

The cop nodded, and now Ben could see that his relaxed stance was just a cover-up. His eyes were full of fear.

"What happened to him?" Ben asked.

The cop opened his mouth, probably to tell him that it was none of his business and to run on home and not breathe a word of it to anyone. But he was interrupted by someone in the house saying, "Okay, let's get him in the ambulance quickly, before anyone sees."

Both the cop and Ben looked at the front door and saw a stretcher come out. A body lay on top, covered by a white sheet. As it passed, the wind picked up a bit, tossing a corner of the sheet aside. Ben caught a glimpse of the mangled mess that remained of Mr. Mathis' head and felt the gorge rise in his throat. He quickly looked away as the paramedic hurried to return the sheet to its original place before rolling the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. Ben's stomach continued to churn, and he refused to look up again until the ambulance had departed. He then walked up to his house.

As he turned up the drive, the cop called after him, "Hey! That where you live?"

Ben looked back and said, "Yeah. We just moved here. Why?"

The officer said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. His eyes were wide, disbelieving, and fearful. There was no more false tranquility anymore. He was scared.

And, turning back to face the house, the house that was feeling less like home by the second, Ben was too.